A Brief Glimpse at the Ruins of Godric's Hollow
by lisdepaz
Summary: A short missing moment that is set postHBP. Harry visits the ruins of his parents' home for the first time after a personal tragedy.


AN: Just a brief "Missing Moment" piece. I imagine this to take place after HBP and before book 7. I don't know what inspired the moment, just... I was feeling particularly sorry for Harry after re-reading the end of OotP. You know the part where he's sitting by the lake by himself? So sad. Poor Harry. I may expand upon this, using the character of Madeline. Then it'll go out of canon, of course...

The only sound echoing around her was that of her own footfalls, heavy on the pavement. She ran, pushing her hair hurriedly out of her eyes, wiping tears haphazardly as she went. She knew she looked a mess, but it didn't matter where she was going. Darkness was rapidly overtaking the brightness of day and the shadows helped hide her from curious eyes. She slowed to a halt as she reached the edge of town where the sidewalk ended and met with a forest path. She hoisted herself over the gate in one fluid movement. There, hidden behind the gate and in the shadows of the forest, she relaxed a little. Breathing heavily, she leaned against the gate and tried to wrestle her hair back into its clip.

Having calmed down considerably, she followed the dirt path as it wound its way through the forest and up a slight hill. There was something here, hidden away from the rest of her town -- the old stone foundations of a house, tumbled down long ago. She often climbed up here and, finding a quiet nook amongst the rubble, sat and contemplated the mess she had made of her life. She knew something terrible had happened there. The scorched stones and the charred remains of furniture still lingered under the moss and regrowth. Still, it reminded her that her life wasn't as bad as it could be. It calmed her, as horrible as that may seem.

She could just make out the bulky shape of the ruined house by the light of the full moon. There were just two walls still standing, and no roof at all. Much of the remains were covered in darkness, hidden from the moonlight by the encroaching trees. In a few moments, she was there. Sliding her hand along the cold surface of the nearest wall, she ducked her head under what could have been a former doorway and settled herself on a particularly large mound in the corner of the two walls, surrounded by rubble.

Resting the back of her head against the wall behind her, she looked up at the full moon through and felt utterly at peace. The solitude didn't last long, however. There was suddenly a sharp CRACK, as if some large branch had been snapped off a tree somewhere outside and then... the unmistakable crunch of footsteps approaching. She sat up, alert and tense and not a little bit angry. Who was intruding on her sanctuary? Hidden in the dark corner of the room, she shrank in on herself and waited.

A man entered, dressed strangely in archaic robes and holding something long and thin in his hand. She peered at him in interest. He was tall and thin, his dark hair messy and seeming to grow in disarray all over his head. The moonlight glinted off the lenses of his glasses as he surveyed the room. Suddenly she _sensed_ rather than _saw_ him tense, as if he could tell someone else was in the room. His body went unnaturally still and he seemed to be straining to listen.

"Who are you?" she asked quietly, to avoid the appearance of lurking. Despite the softness of her voice, the young man jumped about a foot into the air. He spun on the spot and pointed the long stick in her direction.

"Who's there?" he demanded roughly, his deep voice hoarse. He cleared his throat and said sharply, "Step into the light."

She wanted to retort that since _he_ was the one intruding perhaps he could stand to be more polite, but something about his poised and ready stance told her to put him at his ease. "It's all right," she murmured. "I'm from the village." She got up, dusted herself off and put herself in the moonlight. She felt his eyes traveling up her body and frowned a little. He stared at her almost hungrily, as if seeing someone else. Someone he missed terribly.

"But _you're_ not," she said, more calmly than she felt. Though he was skinny, she could tell now that he held himself as if he knew how to fight. And he was ready to do it now. "You're not from around here at all. I don't recognize you and I've lived here all my life."

"Here?" he said faintly, lowering the stick he held. He gestured around him at the ruined house, a sad vulnerability lingering about him.

"Well no, obviously not _here_," she answered impatiently. Another thought occurred to her. She was far from civilization, alone in the dark woods with a strangely dressed man clutching a polished stick as if it were very important. She glanced around for a ready escape.

He laughed softly, but it was an empty sound with no real joy in it. "It's okay, I won't hurt you." He looked down at himself and seemed to realize something. Hurriedly stowing the stick into the inside pocket of his robe, he ran a hand through his already mussed hair and let his gaze travel once more around the scorched ruins. A deep sadness clouded his expression. She noticed a thin, razor-sharp scar directly over his right eyebrow in the shape of a lightning bolt.

"Why _are_ you here?" he asked abruptly, glaring at her in something bordering on anger.

Drawing herself up a little, she felt the frown deepen on her brow. "I could ask you the same question," she retorted. "I come here all the time and I've never seen you here. Where are you from?"

"You come here all the time?" he repeated softly, all traces of anger fading from his voice. He looked at her and she could almost see the pity in his expression.

"Yes," she answered stiffly. "That's twice now you've avoided my question. Where did you come from?"

He shrugged uncomfortably. "Around," he answered vaguely. "I... I've heard about this place. Used to know the people who lived here," he muttered, not exactly meeting her eyes. "Wanted to see it for myself." His eyes flickered up to meet her gaze and then just as quickly flickered away, something hardening in his expression.

"Well, I've seen it," he muttered as if talking to himself. "Don't know what I expected. Just _something_..." He broke off and searched the room almost desperately.

"You knew the people who lived here? The Potters?" she probed gently, feeling inexplicably sorry for this fully grown man who had just transformed into a young, lost boy for a few fleeting moments before her eyes.

At her words, his body started visibly and he stared at her. The moonlight made his visage seem pale and ghostly, his eyes wide with surprise. "You... you knew them?"

"No," she replied slowly. "But I know _of_ them and... and what happened here." There were several heavy minutes that passed in silence. "I'm sorry," she offered. It seemed hugely inadequate.

He nodded mutely, returning once again to the desperate search for something in the room. Apparently not finding what he was looking for, he sighed and turned to face her. "Listen, you shouldn't come here anymore. It could be dangerous. Falling rubble and all that," he finished weakly.

"Thanks," she answered somewhat sarcastically. "I think I'll be okay."

"No! Listen.." he turned his full attention to her, his bright eyes boring into hers with an intense concentration behind them. "What happened here... it wasn't an accident and..." he seemed to be looking for words. "It could happen again. They could come back. You should stay away."

"They?" she asked, heart thumping irrationally. His tone of voice and the urgency with which he spoke frightened her. "Who?" A guarded expression came into his eyes. He turned toward the door as if to walk out. "Wait!" she called. "Who's _'they'_ and why would they come back? Who are _you_? How did you get here?" He shook his head in frustration.

"I can't tell you, but please just listen." He reached into his pocket and drew the long stick out again. "Maybe one day I'll come back and let you know it's safe to return." His toneless voice suggested that he didn't believe that would happen.

"But... well! Well what's your name!" she cried in desperation.

He paused. "Harry. And you...?"

"Madeline."

They locked eyes for a moment. He nodded politely, looking boyish and young in the shadows.

As he walked around the wall, she heard him whisper something in a voice nearly suffocating with deep anguish. She caught the end of it: "...seeing you everywhere, Hermione..." Then there was a CRACK just as before. She hurried out after him and stared wildly in all directions. He was gone.

Thanks for reading and please review!


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